


Brave New Advances

by InfernalPume



Category: Leviathan - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Slice of Life, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernalPume/pseuds/InfernalPume
Summary: Of course it was something they had thought about. How couldn’t they? It was something everyone did when the time was right, something every living thing did when the time was right. The meaning of life, nothing more natural than that. Neither of them were getting any younger, finances were secure, and life seemed to have run out of devastating twists of fate. If there ever was a time to start, now would be that time.





	

Of course it was something they had thought about. How couldn’t they? It was something _everyone_ did when the time was right, something every living thing did when the time was right. The meaning of life, nothing more natural than that. Neither of them were getting any younger, finances were secure, and life seemed to have run out of devastating twists of fate. If there ever was a time to start, now would be that time.

 

Deryn sat with one ankle crossed to her knee, hunched over and trying not to look at the assorted family photos assembled on the mantle. This house had always seemed a bit off to Deryn, it didn’t quite fit with the Lady Boffin’s personality. Though she didn’t quite know what she was supposed to expect upon entering the Barlow estate for the first time, squalling wriggling brats were certainly not it. Those brats had of course grown since then, the photographs on the mantle were proof enough of that, but this still was a place of family value and togetherness, something Deryn didn’t think would be all too important to Dr. Barlow.

 

It was another reminder of the fate expected of all women. No matter how well they did in life, how important their work, there was always this inevitability. Deryn supposed it wouldn’t be so bad if she turned out like the Lady Boffin, after all, she hadn’t even _mentioned_ her children throughout the first months of Deryn knowing her, and no one ever asked her about them or chided her for not actively taking care of them. Sitting back, Deryn crossed her arms. Yes, that wouldn’t be so bad. They would just be something she had to deal with when she was at home, none of her work associates had to even know they existed.

 

“Is that Ms. Sharp?” Deryn uncrossed her arms and looked about.

 

A middle-aged woman in service attire stood before her, one hand raised to her cheek with the other gripping her skirt gently. Deryn smiled at her, and rose from the sofa where she had been waiting.

 

“Good morning Pelly,” Deryn said politely, the nanny of the house had always been kind to her, “Good to see you.”

 

“You as well,” the woman said, approaching her with open arms, “And would you look at your hair! A proper length, though still in trousers I see.”

 

Deryn looked down at her attire, and laughed nervously. “Well if there were such a thing as proper trousers, I’d be wearing them. They’re made for women to wear, its popular in America.”

 

Lilit had insisted that Deryn join the fad of ‘lady trousers’ that was growing in France and the states, and Deryn had to admit the slacks felt better then those tailored for men.

 

            “I suppose so,” Pelly said, pursing her lips, “But don’t let the girls see you, you know how impressionable they are,” She smiled, “With the mistress away it’s been quite a handful looking after them,”

 

            Deryn’s stomach turned in a knot. That’s right. Dr. Barlow had Pelly to look after her babies. That was obvious she supposed, _someone_ has to do it, but how expensive were nannies? Dr. Barlow certainly didn’t make more than either Alek or Deryn, but they already lived snugly with a gardener, a maid, and a cook who came over for special occasions. Deryn didn’t like the idea of any more people poking about.

 

            “To what do we owe this visit?” Pelly asked, breaking Deryn’s chain of thought, “You don’t come around so often these days,”

 

            Smiling awkwardly, Deryn put her hands in her pockets, “I’m actually here to see Nora.” She admitted, “Alan told me to wait here.”

 

Pelly nodded smiling, held Deryn’s hands for a few moments longer, then exited the room. Crossing back to the Sofa, Deryn sat. Long minutes stretched by, making Deryn feel awkward again. Sitting back, she crossed her arms and tried to think of exactly what she wanted to say. She had come here on a whim, after all, but it was too late to leave now. Whatever she did say, she didn’t want it to sound like she was panicking, nor did she want to necessarily reveal exactly what she was thinking. After all, not even _Alek_ knew about this sodding business yet, he didn’t even know she was in London. Deryn had come here straight from the airfield.

 

Upon hearing the scraping of gravel by the front entrance, Deryn shot up from the sofa is if it were a bed of coals. Suddenly she wanted to _run._ It was mad thinking she could talk to the Lady Boffin about this, but where was she supposed to go from here? Her house would be empty, Alek going about his daily business with the society, and while the women Deryn had befriended over the years were good for a game of tennis, she didn’t quite want to discuss this with them. The door opened, and Deryn realized that she was standing there frozen before the mantle like a coatrack.

 

When she saw her Deryn gulped, feeling like a child being caught drawing on the wallpaper.

 

“E-Evening Mam’” Deryn managed, “Welcome home, I suppose.”

 

“Good Evening, Captain,” she said back, “This is a surprise.”

 

Deryn nodded, feeling about ten years younger. “I thought I’d stop by for a little chat,” she said, “Since I’m in town.”

 

“So you are,” Dr. Barlow hung up her coat on a peg and closed the door, shutting out the cold winter winds. “Though, if I cam correct, you were in town for the holidays just three weeks ago.”

 

Deryn nodded sheepishly, and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, “Aye, well, I’m let off again. Obviously.”

 

Dr. Barlow nodded, “Obviously.”

 

Smiling awkwardly, Deryn folded her hands behind her back. “Well, I’m here to discuss something…delicate with you.” She said, “Something...private.”

 

“Private?” Dr. Barlow frowned, “You are relieved of duty three weeks after your initial leave, and now you wish to discuss something delicate?”

 

Deryn just nodded, feeling ridiculous.

 

“Then I suppose I we can speak in the study,” Dr. Barlow said, wasting no time.

 

Deryn crossed over to where her pack sat next to the sofa. She was still carrying it from her journey to London, and didn’t want to forget it in the Barlow living room. Following her, Deryn again tried to compose her thoughts. It was difficult, knowing that she had to first explain what she was doing here without actually explaining why she was in London. That bit she wanted to keep to herself. Finally the door to the study closed behind them, and Deryn sat in the chair across from the desk. Crossing her legs again, she fiddled with her thumbs. The Lady Boffin waited silently.

 

“Do…do you remember that thing you suggested I try when I first started working for you?” Deryn began.

 

“Ms. Sharp, there were _many_ ‘things’ I had you try when you were employed with the society.”

 

Deryn rubbed her neck.

 

“Aye, well, I mean that thing you suggested, the hormone balancer, I had to get it implanted,” Deryn looked away, “I cant remember what it was called,”

 

Dr. Barlow narrowed her eyes, “I would like to remind you Captain that I am not your physician, questions pertaining to replacing your contraceptives would be better asked in a hospital.”

 

Deryn blinked. “Replacing it?” she asked, rather dumbly. “You’re…supposed to get a new one?”

 

Dr. Barlow’s eyes widened slightly, just enough for Deryn’s stomach to sink. “Yes, every few years or so.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment. Well, that answered the question of _how._

 

“Deryn,” Dr. Barlow began, “Why were you given leave so soon after the holidays?”

 

Deryn stiffened. Hearing her first name from someone like the Lady Boffin always made her jumpy. She supposed it was obvious now. The connections being made in the woman’s mind might as well be plastered on her forehead.

 

“Medical leave,” Deryn admitted.

 

Another silence.

 

“Then I suppose congratulations are in order,” Dr. Barlow said, “Rather later than we all expected.”

 

“Aye,” Deryn said, rubbing her neck again, “But I was hoping on _never_ really.”

 

Dr. Barlow narrowed her eyes. “That is rather pessimistic, Captain.”

 

Nodding, Deryn crossed her legs, “I actually wanted to know if there was any way out of this,” seeing the Lady Boffin’s expression, Deryn continued, “I’ve got work to do, I cant be away so long they decide a man can do my job better and with less the controversy!” Realizing she was gripping the arm of the chair, she tried to relax. “I don’t exactly live the kind of life where this could be considered a _good_ thing.”

 

“All living things consider reproduction a good thing,” Dr. Barlow said, “And as for a way out, that depends.”

 

“Depends on what?” Deryn asked, hope gleaming in her chest. Her career might not be ruined after all.

 

“That is a question for a physician.” Dr. Barlow folded her hands in her lap, “Which I am not.”

 

            Nodding, Deryn rose from her seat. “Aye, I suppose that’s where I go next.” She bumped the chair with her knee awkwardly, making a fist in pain. Dr. Barlow rose with her.

 

            “Deryn,” she said, suddenly more serious, “There are medicinal options that can work under the right circumstances, but if you are under the _wrong_ circumstances,” She paused, gripping Deryn’s arm, “I suggest you stop looking for a way out.”

 

            Deryn looked at her. Very rarely did the Lady Boffin show concern over matters of morality. It was a bit irritating. This was the woman who spat in the face of the first rules of fabrication and made a Perspicacious Loris. After all, about now all that really was inside her was a collection of cells that hadn’t decided who they wanted to be yet. The instruction set wasn’t even written at this point, right? Who was she to tell Deryn what to do with a collection of stem cells.

 

            “I’ll be fine,” Deryn smiled, “Always am.”

 

 

            The skies were dark and gloomy by the time Deryn fumbled with the keys on her own doorstep. Daft as she was in the scramble back to London, she hadn’t thought to wear a pair of gloves. During the day the cold wasn’t so bad, but the night howled with ominous winds that made her teeth chatter and her fingers numb. When she finally got the door open, she was greeted by the familiar scent of home, accented by dinner’s cooking smells.

 

            Deryn rushed into the warmth, the wind slamming the door behind her. Dropping her pack with a _thud_ she undid her coat and hung it on the coatrack. There were only ever two jackets on the rack, hers and Alek’s, and in a flash of what she could only assume was paranoia she saw a small pale blue coat hung on one of the bottom rungs. Low enough for someone tiny to reach. Shaking herself, she made her way into the kitchen.

 

            There he was, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, top three buttons undone, leaning over a pot and holding a cookbook open with his left hand. Looking utterly daft. In the past years if planned visits scheduled weeks in advance, it hadn’t occurred to Deryn how Alek went about feeding himself without her. They only hired the cook for dinner parties, and when they were together they usually ate out. It was another one of the things Alek had to adapt to in the last fifteen years of being a commoner she supposed. Alek frowned when he turned to face her, then rose his brows.

           

            “Deryn?” he asked, “What are you doing here?”

 

            “Nice to see you too dafty,” Deryn said with a smirk, maneuvering around the table to hug him. He was sweating from the heat of the stove, his shirt sticking to his skin when she wrapped her arms around him.

 

            “You’ve got a tan,” Alek noted, brushing his thumb over Deryn’s bronzed cheeks, “How on earth did you manage to get a tan?”

 

            “It’s not snowing everywhere,” Deryn smiled, pulling him close to kiss him, “The sun still exists in other places.”

 

            “So I’ve heard,” Alek smiled and nodded to the old radio on the shelf above the kitchen sink. One of the more ancient contraptions of the house, the metal itself seemed to droop into the wood, but sound crackled from it like it had the day it was brought home, tuned into weather reports in the tropics. “But why are you here? You were home-”

 

            “Just three weeks ago, aye,” Deryn pulled away, “But I’m back on account of medical leave.”

 

            It was out before she could stop it, though she doubted she could get away with stopping it even if she had tried. Telling the truth, blurting out everything that was going wrong without thinking, was something Deryn had gotten used to.

 

            Alek frowned. “Are you injured?” He turned off the stove, looking at her with concern. Sweat beaded on the back of Deryn’s neck.

 

            “Not injured so much as in need of a checkup.” Deryn said, “I’m going in to the hospital tomorrow, I’ll know more then.”

 

            Cocking an eyebrow, Alek crossed his arms. “That’s very dubious.” He looked to the pot, then back to Deryn, “I’d think you’d need more of an excuse than requiring a checkup.”

 

            “Aye. Well.” Deryn mumbled, unsure of how much she should say.

 

            It was a doomed situation no matter what she did really. Tell him now only for the doctor to say it was some kind of mistake on the ship’s boffin’s part, or wait until tomorrow and figure it out from there.

 

            “They _think_ there might be something, something our Dr. Aden didn’t have the equipment or experience to properly diagnose,” she said, “Apparently this happens all the time, there’s only so much a ship’s doctor can cram into his attic, there’s always bound to be things he isn’t trained for.”

 

            Alek nodded his head slowly, “Well, lets hope it isnt anything too serious.” He said, brows still knit with concern.

 

            Sighing with relief Deryn nodded and parted from him to slump in a chair. “Whatever that is smells good,” she said, more for the conversation then anything else.

 

            Alek looked back to his pot and nodded, turning a dial to rekindle the stove.

 

            “I’ve been practicing,” he said with some small amount of smugness, “I think I’m getting used to a commoner’s ‘bachelor’ lifestyle.”

 

            Deryn snorted at this. It was true enough that in he eyes of decent society that’s what Mr. Aleksander Hohenberg was, a single man who lived on his own in a semi-stately house in London. Any rumors of the mad female captain of a freelance expedition airship sharing this house were politely ignored for the sake of her and his reputation. And it wasn’t so difficult to keep things peaceable, really. It wasn’t like Deryn spent more then a few weeks at a time in London, while an honorary director of the Society’s board such as Alek had to stay close by to see to charity galas and negotiations over funding. All pure dead boring in Deryn’s personal opinion, but exactly the sort of thing those tutors all the way back in Vienna had trained him for. So when Captain Sharp _was_ in town, it was of course up to the courteous Mr. Hohenberg to offer her lodging rather then waste funds on an unused flat of her own.

 

            “I’d like to see how you’ve managed, if you’ve some to spare.” Deryn said with a smirk, leaning back and crossing her legs.

 

            “I do often make more then I ever intend to eat myself,” Alek admitted, “And when I try to give the rest to the neighbor, she tries to cook for me. I’ve got enough frozen pies to feed an army.”

 

            Deryn chuckled, “And you’re quite sure its not because she’s tasted your cooking and mistaken it for a cry for help?” she teased lightly, making Alek roll his eyes.

 

            “Lets hope not,” he said, “Seeing how you are about to sample my domestic skills.”

 

            “Can’t be any worse then what we serve on the ship,” Deryn admitted, “I’ll be the first to admit that some things are better done on the ground.”

 

            “You don’t need to admit it, I know of that first hand,” Said Alek as he chopped up onions and dumped them into the pot, “And I believe you’ll find that what I lack in airmanship experience I make up with an expert ability to follow directions.”

 

            When Deryn saw Alek next reach for a red powder in a small bottle she arched an eyebrow.

 

            “What is it you’re making, exactly?” She asked, recognizing the scent but unable to name it.

 

            “Mulligatawny,” Alek said, dumping bits of rabbit and chicken in with the spices.

 

            “That’s expensive to make,” Deryn said, “You bought curry powder just so you could treat yourself?”

 

            Alek shook his head as he tended to another pot filled with bubbling rice, “Of course not, the spices were left over from when we had your brother and his family over for Christmas. You know how young Dylan likes his exotic foods.”

 

            Though it had been years since the hilarity of her nephews name had worn off, Deryn snorted anyway.

 

            “Fancy tastes for a six year old,” Deryn grumbled, remembering the posh little boy who had demanded his bed sheets be laundered every night he stayed in their guest room due to a manic fear of germs.

 

            Alek pulled a pair of plates from a shelf; not the _nice_ ones Deryn noticed, but the kind that were usually used for baked beans on toast, and ladled curry onto each before sliding one across the table to where Deryn sat. As he had warned, there was still a great deal left in the pot, more then half. Whatever cookbook Alek had gotten his hands on was obviously written with a full household in mind. Deryn supposed that was for the better. Boiling rice and reheating soup was simpler then frying an egg, and Deryn felt like she would be too nervous tomorrow morning to cook herself a decent breakfast. It wasn’t until she had the first glorious spoonful that Deryn realized how _hungry_ she was. It seemed sitting in a coach a bundle of nerves all the way from Wormwood to central London worked up an appetite.

 

            Watching her scarf down the remainder of rice and glop Alek smirked. “I take it you find my culinary abilities to be acceptable.”

 

            “Oh aye,” Deryn said through an unladylike mouthful of rabbit, “You’d make an excellent housewife.”

 

            “I’ll be sure to list that amongst my strengths when next interrogated by Pelly,” Alek said, “She has been trying to find a match for me for the past three months or so.”

 

            Normally Deryn would laugh along at this, normally she wouldn’t think twice about actually getting around to the wedding they had promised each other ten years ago. Back when they were too young to publically announce their courtship, even when Deryn left her male persona in an empty grave on the top of the kirk hill.

 

            After that summer they decided the next would be the one they became man and wife, but then the Lady Boffin announced the society’s private expedition airship. It seemed that alongside her mission in Isthanbul Dr. Barlow had always intended to snatch one of the Admiralty’s more promising airmen for the society’s purposes. The following years were a blur, Deryn elevated from a lass with a bowler she just barely managed to earn to the first ever female airman of a brand new airship. From there she had battled it out with the other lads for supremacy, finally asserting herself as a ‘Lady Captain’ after five long years of desperately trying to preform above and beyond expectation. Doing all that meant Deryn was away most of the time, and it was rather difficult to throw weddings without a bride.

 

           There was just never the time to get around to it. Deryn loved Alek and their home together but after a few weeks she’d get twitchy and _needed_ to return to the sky. Alek understood that then, he understands that now. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all. They were practically married anyway, and providence had proven that it didn’t care a squick about the affairs of ex princes and mad airgirls. But now that things were all pear-shaped, Deryn wondered if maybe now was the time to finally honor their informal engagement. Blisters, did she even still have the _ring?_

            “Is something wrong Deryn?” Alek asked, his voice shaking Deryn from her thoughts.

 

            “W-well,” Deryn mumbled, succeeding in masking her stutter with a burp, “Was just thinking, why _not_ get married?”

 

            Deryn avoided looking at Alek’s face, not sure what kind of reaction she’d see, what kind she expected to see.

 

            “Well, it’d be rather later then everyone expected,” He admitted.

 

            “Aye, that’s what the Lady Boffin said,” Deryn mumbled before she could stop herself.

 

            Alek heard her, pausing in eating himself to give her a questioning glance.

 

            “You visited Dr. Barlow earlier?” he asked slowly, “And you discussed _marriage?_ ”

 

            “Aye, well,” Deryn stammered, “Just chatting about things, it came up.”

 

            It was no use. Deryn could practically see the cogs turning behind Alek’s eyes until finally it dawned on him. Those eyes traveled at first to her face and after surveying her guilty expression glanced down to her middle. He almost knocked over a glass of water as he moved hastily to grip her hand in both of his.

 

            “Deryn…” he said, his voice soft with disbelief.

 

            “I’m not certain yet,” Deryn said, finding it difficult to read his stare, “Its all the things you’d expect, but it’s also all the things you’d expect from something else, like a tropical flu.”

 

            “You don’t look ill,” Alek said, still griping her and staring at her like she was some holy avatar, “You look…”

 

            “Don’t,” Deryn interrupted him. Realizing that came off as a bit rude she went to cup his face, “Don’t get your hopes up, you daftie. Like I said, Dr. Aden is used to treating outbreaks and broken bones, not…” her free hand drifted to touch her abdomen, “Just don’t get your hopes up. I’m not.”

 

            Those last words seemed to shake Alek from his trance.

 

            “Ah…” he said, glancing down at their joined hands, then back into her face, “How…how do you feel about all this?”

 

            Deryn didn’t think she’d have a problem ranting about what a barking _disaster_ this was, she had been very vocal of her distaste of sticky snotty children who she had the misfortune of sharing five foot radius with before. But after seeing that look on Alek’s face, how hopeful and excited he had become at just the mere _suggestion_ …something in her hesitated. Almost found her sharing his sentiments. Made her wonder if this was really as dreadful as she thought it would be.

 

            “I…don’t know,” Deryn admitted, then added quickly, “I’m not lying- I really don’t know. Its _inconvenient_ aye but…” she looked at him again, “You’d really want this, wouldn’t you?”

 

            Alek opened his mouth to respond, obviously unsure of whether or not to express his feelings. Not that his feelings weren’t barking obvious. For all that had happened over the years, for all that the broken boy who had lost his parents had been buried underneath new duties and purpose, Alek had still lost his family that night the war began. And here he was, being told he was about to start a new one.

 

            “Oh of _course_ you do,” Deryn mumbled, unsure of where this left them, “And…” she swallowed, unsure of how to put it, “My brother’s little boy isn’t so bad- and Jaspart’s a _bumrag,_ so I’d think that if we were to give it a go ours would be fine since we’re both dead brilliant.”

 

            Alek snorted at this, making Deryn laugh along with him in relief of having dodged an awkward conversation.

 

            “Either way,” she added, “No one knows anything until tomorrow.”

 

            That was something she could think about later, she hadn’t made any promises to Alek yet. There was all the time in the world t properly… _think_ about it.

 

            Even in not knowing meant Alek wouldn’t do anything more then hold her in the bed they shared that night, no matter how she wriggled and kissed him to stuff other intentions in his attic.

 

            “Its not good for the-”

 

            “That’s a myth and you know it.”

 

            Still, despite her protests, there was no indulging in the usual acts a man and woman would commit after being apart for three weeks. While Deryn was robbed of the only thing she was looking forward to in returning to London, she had to admit lying beside him again was just as satisfying. Three weeks wasn’t long enough for her to become a brooding romantic. Deryn was a far cry from the lovestruck lassie she had been at sixteen, unable to part with her prince for more then a week. Even so, Deryn had learned to treasure the time she spent with Alek, knowing it would never last.

 

            It was always a teetering scale, like an acrobat on a wire. Spend too long in the city she missed her ship, but weeks to months in the air made her miss her lad again. The best times where when Alek’s duties brought him on board with her, glorious days of feeling the thrum of airflow as they snuck in a snog in her cabin. But as much as Alek had taken to flying he was no airman, there was no permanent place for him aboard the _Mazikeen._ The majority of their time spent together would always be on the ground, and Deryn would constantly be staggering between yearning for Alek and yearning for the sky.

 

            It was a reminder as to why settling down wasn’t an option for her. Deryn was nowhere near ready to give up her work, she didn’t know if she’d ever be. Glancing to the side Deryn caught a glimpse of Alek’s sleeping face, and was reminded of that glimmer in his eyes that so shaken her. Maybe it didn’t have to be like that at all, it wouldn’t be the first time they had broken convention. Ma Sharp might have some words to say about Deryn leaving such duties to tutors and a nanny, but Alek received the same treatment and he turned out fine.

 

            With these thoughts in mind Deryn scolded herself into sleep, her appointment was early the next day and she didn’t want to have to reschedule. Her eyes closed as she determinately repeated comforting words to herself, schemes, plotting, all she needed to prove to herself that everything hadn’t gone sour.

 

            The next morning went about the same as Deryn expected it might, rising before Alek to dress in civvie clothes and turn on the kettle. She sampled last night’s dinner and decided it wasn’t worth the kerosene to reheat, grudgingly eating a few spoonfulls before having to stop. It wasn’t that it tasted bad cold, quite the contrary, but as of late she had been feeling ill in the mornings. This morning especially, what with the doctor’s visit in an hour. On the way out of the house Deryn caught her reflection in the mirror, a dead tired looking woman in her late twenties in slacks and a short sleeved jersey top called a ‘t-shirt’ by Americans. She looked like she belonged to one of the supposed ‘girl gangs’ Lilit once described in her letters. Suffragettes who didn’t think it was enough to demand rights, but spit in the face of the male oppressor by being as unorthodox as they could. Deryn didn’t associate herself with them, didn’t fancy the idea of acting out of spite instead of progress. But if a doctor saw her dressed as she was, _unmarried_ as she was, asking whether or not she was pregnant, it might cause more of a fuss then Deryn was willing to put up with.

 

            This wasn’t to say Deryn felt any kind of shame about the recent turn of events, she was proud of who she was and proud of her relationship with Alek, but that didn’t mean she was daft enough to parade about in an attempt to scandalize the neighbors. With a sigh she turned away from the front door and went back upstairs to don a proper frock, as well as contemplate a pair of gloves. It had been some time since she was such an insecure tomboy as to shy away from dresses for any reason other than inconvenience, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to hide her bare ring finger. There hadn’t been anything illegal about shagging your lad since the 16th century, and she would be consulting a professional.

 

            The world was crisp and cold outside, even underneath Deryn’s coat. She cursed herself for only owning summer stockings, the sheer tan fabric doing nothing against the morning chill. She ducked into the underground and was glad for the heat radiating from the tube beasties, if not the smell. The bus ride was about as comfortable as it could be, Deryn had to remember she couldn’t slouch with her legs crossed or parted, unused to sitting in a skirt her posture remained stiff and uncomfortable for the entire ride.

 

            Finally it was time for Deryn to step off the tube and walk up to the Royal London Hospital. She hadn’t felt like seeing her normal physician Dr. Phelps, he was chummy with everyone in the neighborhood and didn’t like the idea of him gossiping to nurses. Deryn gave her name and a nurse led her away to a small room. She found that she had put on a dress for no reason, she had to change into a gown before the doctor would even _see_ her. Undressing in a public place made Deryn’s insides twitch, even if this had been a place of healing for over a hundred years.

 

            Clothed only in the cheap scratchy robe, Deryn’s leg bounced until the door finally opened and she was speaking to a doctor at last.

 

            “Good morning, Mrs. Sharp is it?”

 

            “Aye,” Deryn said, not bothering to correct him with her proper honorific.

 

 

            “My name is Dr. Thompson, what seems to be the problem today?”

 

            Deryn swallowed at this. She had not actually uttered the word in her mind or aloud since first hearing it spoken by Dr. Alan. For whatever reason she found herself unable to say it now.

 

            “Was hoping you’d tell me,” Deryn said, edging around it like a ninny, “I’ve been feeling a bit ill, vomiting mostly after waking up but sometimes around noon, I have this…pain around here…” she gestured to her lower abdomen over the gown, hoping that she was being obvious in what she was afraid of.

 

            Again she was given a look, Deryn tried to school her features to appear as if her nerves were due to excitement and not panic. There was no reason this fancyboots doctor from this ancient reputable hospital should get it in his head that Deryn Sharp was afraid of _anything._

 

            “Well Mam,” He said, “I can check for a virus if you like, but how about we put a tic in every box shall we?”

 

            A glass vial was placed before Deryn, and from the bio-hazard printed on the side and the disinfectant he gave alongside it Deryn knew what it was for.

 

            “…Will this detect a virus…?” Deryn asked, “I assumed you would want blood.”

 

            “We’ll be doing this test first,” He said, “The ladies room is down the hall.”

 

            Deryn nodded and marveled at the casualty in which he dismissed her to go piss in a cup. As she left the room she heard him call a nurse. “Yes, we’ll be needing a Friedman toad.”

 

            While she didn’t know what a ‘Friedman Toad’ was, Deryn pointedly listened for him asking for any of the other usual doctor rubbish that was used to take tests, and found he seemed satisfied with just the one.

 

            Upon returning with the ‘sample’ she found a strange apparatus that was first recognizable as the sort of toy ant’s nest children keep to learn about responsibility. Though, further inspection revealed that the little twisting tunnels weren’t made by small insects, but were instead pulsing with life.

 

            “Are those…guts?” Deryn asked, frowning.

 

            “A newer fabrication,” Dr. Thomson said, “A little uncomfortable in its current stage, but has been integral in women’s health.”

 

            Then, to Deryn’s horror, he took the sample from her, and with a gloved hand unscrewed the stopper and poured it into the class case of guts. They reacted about as well as Deryn would expect any beastie to when being drowned in piss, writhing and twitching before a cloud of red orbs shot through the transparent canals like a toy straw. Seemingly satisfied with the disgusting experiment, Dr. Thompson signaled for a nurse to take the beastie away.

 

            “Well, that’s that then,” he said, as if Deryn had any understanding what that meant, “I believe congratulations are in order.”


End file.
